


Sherlollipops - Haunted

by MizJoely



Series: 221 Sherlollipops [38]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ghost Sherlock, Living Molly, Sherlolly - Freeform, They Make It Work, trust me - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last of my three "Insomniac Fics" from late-late last night or early-early today. Rated T for implied sexytimes at the end (trust me). Here be a ghost Sherlock and an exasperated but intrigued Molly, thanks to an anon prompt for a "short horror Sherlolly". This was as close as I could get. And the major character death tag is just a precaution cause Sherlock's a ghost and stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlollipops - Haunted

She knew the flat was haunted when she took it, but she was desperate and the rent was more than reasonable and she had a cat and cats were supposed to be able to sense the supernatural or something, right?

Yeah. Right. So much for that; once the hauntings started in earnest, her cat seemed to think it was no big deal and simply continued about his life as if the pictures weren’t jumping off the walls by themselves or the living room furniture didn’t periodically rearrange itself in the time it took her to cross from her bedroom to the kitchen.

But she gritted her teeth and put up with it, even the noises and the smells and the random cold spots that came and went at whim, chanting to herself: “It’s only temporary, Molly, it’s only until you can afford someplace a bit nicer, a bit quieter, a bit less haunted!” 

Two months in, she’d somehow managed a routine that involved ignoring what she could, wearing warm clothes at all times, and investing in a huge supply of ear stopples so she could get a good night’s sleep. For some reason the haunting was confined to the living room, which took her about two weeks to figure out; after that, she, like Toby, simply avoided that room as much as possible. Possibly out of petulance at being gotten round, whatever spirit it was that was haunting the place upped the ante, continually moving the furniture in the middle of the night so that every time she needed to use the loo, Molly ended up banging her shin or stubbing her toe on something.

Bruises, however, she could live with. Fortunately the spirit didn’t seem inclined to do any worse damage to her.

He manifested on her sixtieth night in the flat, a tall, thin man with a head of dark curls, cheekbones to die for (although Molly winced internally even as she thought it), full red lips and eyes that seemed to shift in color from blue to green and back again. He was wearing an aubergine button up that fit him like a second skin, dark trousers, and, interestingly enough, no shoes. “Why haven’t you left?” he asked petulantly as he appeared to seat himself on her floral sofa.

She’d been on her way to the kitchen for a cuppa on this sunny Saturday morning, and his manifestation caught her halfway in the door between the living room and her bedroom. “Um, because I can’t afford any place else just yet?” she said, not meaning to make it a question, but that was just how it came out. His voice was as gorgeous as the rest of him, she noted appreciatively, even as she wondered how he’d died. The landlady hadn’t said a word about him, not even telling Molly his name, only shaking her head sadly when her new tenant asked what the ghost was like.

"Yes you can, you’ve been saving every penny of your salary at your new job, not even buying new clothes for yourself, taking the tube, eating the cheapest groceries you can buy - but overindulging that spoiled cat of yours," he snapped in response, glowering at her. "Surely you’ve saved up enough now for a down payment on a better flat in a better neighborhood, closer to your work at St. Bart’s?"

"How did you know I worked there?" Molly exclaimed. "Or any of that other stuff?"

He rolled his eyes, vanished, and suddenly appeared right in front of her. Molly gave a squeak of surprise and stepped back involuntarily, then squared her shoulders and folded her arms on her chest. “Your clothes are all thrift shop in origin, and you’ve brought home no new purchases since you moved in. Your chequebook shows a very healthy balance - you left it open on the counter one day, and I could see it from here,” he added, nodding toward the open kitchen door. “And you consistently forget to remove your ID before you arrive home. Which is how I also know you’re a Specialist Registrar and used to wear glasses before your one indulgence, contact lenses.”

"The safety goggles are a pain to wear over glasses," Molly protested. "And since you know so much about me, it’s only fair that I know something more about you!"

"Such as?" The ghost sounded challenging, his glower deepening.

"Such as…where are your shoes? Why are you barefoot?"

He blinked, blinked again, gave Molly a blank look, then glanced down at his feet as if he hadn’t noticed his lack of footwear. “Oh, it’s because I died after I’d kicked my shoes off. Diving into the Thames to rescue a colleague,” he added, his glower morphing into a melancholy frown. “Saved him, but drowned in the process.” He shrugged. “Old news, boring, moving on. What else do you want to know?”

"Um, your name?"

"Sherlock Holmes, Miss Hooper. Pleased to make your acquaintenance." Then suddenly he smiled, a brilliant smile that lit up his features, and Molly felt herself aboslutely melting at the sight. God, when he was alive he must have had women throwing themselves at him day and night, in spite of his rather prickly personality. Which, she generously reminded herself, might be as much due to his being dead as anything.

"I do believe this could work out," he mused, leaning closer and peering at her intently. "Would you consider staying if I toned down the, er, special effects? You’re a tolerable roommate," he added at her doubtful look, "and I’m unlikely to be able to put up with anyone else. Or willing." His grin returned, and Molly found herself grinning right back at him.

"Well, I suppose I could stay," she allowed.

"Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. His lips were cool but felt as real and as solid as the lips of a living man, and Molly stumbled back a bit in shock. "What’s wrong? Was that not good?" Sherlock demanded anxiously.

Molly stared at him, wide-eyed. “Um, no, it was good, it’s just that…you’re a ghost, how come I could feel you?”

He shrugged. “Oh, I can manifest in a physical form if I want to. Takes a great deal of energy, though.”

Molly’s stare turned thoughtful…and speculative. “Oh? How much energy? And how long can you stay physical?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Sherlock, however, saw right through her; his grin turned dark and knowing as he reached out and combed long, narrow fingers through her hair. “Not so much energy that I can’t spare it, especially if stop the other manifestations,” he said, his voice slightly deeper, sending a shiver up her spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. “And for as long as it takes to show you exactly how much I appreciate your willingness to stay.” Then his lips descended to hers, and Molly found herself experiencing her first kiss from a ghost…but hardly her last.

It was an unconventional relationship, to say the least, but Sherlock Holmes kept her deliriously happy for the rest of her life. And when she joined him in death, the two of them willingly departed the physical world together, content in knowing that they would be together for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I'd also better tag this with character death since I mention that Molly dies, but it is after a long, happy life with Sherlock!


End file.
